Ashes to Ashes
by WhatBecomesOfYou
Summary: Sara's back in Las Vegas and comes to Nick for guidance. Unrequited NS and mentions of GS. Follow-up to Written in Ashes. Now complete.
1. Reverberations

**Author's Note**: _I've been debating for a while (read: while I was studying for my exams that finished this week) on if I wanted to continue the "story" set up in **Written in Ashes**. The answer was, quite evidently, "yes, I do." Thanks to my beta, Joe, for looking over this and fact-checking a couple of things for me. _

_This takes place roughly four months after **Written in Ashes**. It's not necessary that you have read it in order to understand and/or enjoy this story, however, it may make Nick's point of view easier to understand, so I would recommend it. Nothing recognizable is owned by me. All rights belong to their respective owners._

* * *

Nick Stokes turned over in the night, shoving his blanket onto the floor in the process. The air conditioning in his apartment wasn't working. Again. It wasn't that he absolutely needed the breeze of cool, regulated air that the air conditioner provided, but it was a warm night, and his sheets were particularly stifling tonight.

His cell phone trilled loudly, breaking the silence of the room. Opening one eye, Nick glanced at his alarm clock. It blinked 4:45. On a normal night, Nick would still be at work, however, this was one of his rare nights off and he _was_ trying to get a good night's sleep. He groaned and picked up the phone, not looking at the caller ID.

"Stokes," he grunted, feeling the effects of being ever-so-rudely awoken. He had been having such _nice_ dreams...dreams he couldn't tell other people, yes, but nice dreams all the same. He could hear gasping sobs on the other end of the phone line. Concerned, he dropped some of the fatigue from his voice, "Who is this?"

The person on the other end let out a shaky sigh. "Nick," the voice said. "It's Sara."

"Sara. Sara?! What is Sara Sidle, who is supposed to be in Costa Rica living it up with Grissom, doing calling me at 4:45 in the morning?" Nick thought to himself wildly. Out loud, he took a different approach. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you," he said, cautiously easing himself around the fact that he was hopelessly in love with his best friend. His best friend who was dating their former supervisor, nevertheless. Obviously something had to be wrong for her to be doing this...but would Sara tell him what it was?

* * *

Sara pinched her forehead and let out another sigh, glancing at her tear-stained face in the mirror that came attached to a makeup compact. "Sidle, you look _pathetic_," she thought to herself. "Pull yourself together." In a previous time, she would have turned to Grissom to be her shoulder to cry on. Now, she had to find an alternative, and somehow Nick was a more comforting prospect than Catherine or any of her non-CSI friends. Somewhere in the fog of her mind, she realized that Nick had actually responded to her. "I wasn't expecting to call," she replied, lying between her teeth, allowing the sobs to consume her fully. "Figured I'd...catch up with old friends..."

The tone of his voice altered considerably. "Sara, are you okay?" he asked, concernedly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She tried to laugh it off, but instead dissolved into a new crying fit. She _hated_ being weak like this, crying so hard. This was why she liked to shut herself off from the world and block out the emotions. It wasn't always possible, but it made for a nice theory. If she could have only...this wasn't the time to be thinking about the "should have done" things. Her crying did not escape Nick's hearing, however, no matter how hard she tried to subdue it. "Sara? You there?" his voice crackled over the phone. Sara had always thought Nick had a nice voice. Comforting, almost. She could listen to him talk and talk and it would soothe her. Not that _that_ didn't sound creepy or anything.

"Yeah, I'm here," her voice cracked as she tried to exude false confidence. "I'm at McCarran. Give me a ride?"

* * *

The reverberations in Nick's head would not cease. McCarran. Sara was at McCarran. She was back in Las Vegas?! McCarran. Sara. McCarran. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't go anywhere," he said. "Where should I pick you up?"

There was a pause on the other end. He imagined that Sara was, possibly for the first time, truly seeing her surroundings. "American Airlines baggage claim," she finally whispered, too broken down and jet lagged to consume too much energy. "I'll wait for you." She disconnected the call and put her head between her knees, sobbing.

-_to be continued_-

* * *

**If you've gotten this far, drop me a review to let me know how I'm doing!**


	2. Bliss

**Author's Note**: _Thank you for all of the nice reviews and alerts! They definitely make my day to see them, and I hope from this point forward I can be a little quicker with updating, depending on my real life and how it goes. I've inserted in a third viewpoint, which is Sara prior to the beginning of the story, and it will gradually, over the course of the next few chapters, be filling in a few of the blanks that I left open in the first chapter._

_All I own are my ideas. Anything else belongs to whoever was lucky enough to have created them._

* * *

Sara looked at the phone after she ended the call. The wallpaper on her cell phone, which had remained unchanged all of these months, had a picture of her and Grissom, laughing over a joke she couldn't even remember now. "Oh, Gris," she murmured under her breath, trailing her finger over the screen, choking back the fresh flood of tears that threatened to come without warning. A distant memory came fluttering back, and she let her memories take flight.

* * *

-**three and a half months ago**-

It had been a blissful two weeks since Grissom's arrival. They had spent as much of it together as was humanly possible, and Sara had to admit; if this was what paradise was like, she wouldn't want it to _ever_ end...

"Grissom, where did you put my binoculars?" Sara asked one morning, searching through her knapsack. "I _told_ you last night to put them back in my knapsack after you were done using them."

Grissom came into the room, running a towel over his wet hair. "What did you say? I didn't hear you over the water running."

Sara, clearly exasperated, repeated herself, "I _said_, where did you put my binoculars?" Upon seeing the confusion on his face, she softened slightly. "Look, if you don't remember, it's okay, it's not _that_ important."

"Sara, if it's important to you, it's important to me," he replied softly. "They're right here, by the way. You must have just missed them." He picked the binoculars up from the side table and gently pressed them into her outstretched hand with a smile.

* * *

Sara sighed at the memory of his touch, clenching her fist to attempt, however feebly, to retain the feel of it. Sucking in a deep breath, she took a look around the baggage claim. Being the time of night it was, there weren't too many people mulling around, just a few employees cleaning up before the first flights of the day landed. She knew, from experience, that the first travelers would be arriving at the airport around now, boarding their flights, going about their daily lives...saying goodbye to the people that they _love_. The lucky ones, she thought bitterly, were the ones who had no one to love, no one to have to say goodbye to. Maybe if she hadn't opened up and let people into her life, she wouldn't be looking like the crying, hysterical, girl in the middle of the McCarran Airport baggage claim.

"No man is an island," she said aloud, remembering one of her literature teachers at Harvard talking about John Donne once. If she was an island, however, she mused, her friends at the lab were boats anchored along the shoreline. The analogy didn't quite fit, but it worked well enough for her, and she lay back on top of her carry-on and smiled for the first time in three and a half months. It was not a large smile, just wide enough for her to feel _slightly_ better. But, as she thought to herself, any smile is better than no smile at all.

* * *

As Nick quickly got dressed to go to the airport, neglecting to look at what he was pulling out of his closet, he thought about how he thought this day would never come. He had, for the most part, given up on seeing her again after they had left Warrick's funeral. There were two things that were sticking out in his mind as he replayed their conversation over and over, like a CD with a smudge on it, preventing the track from advancing: Nowhere in their conversation had Grissom been brought up at all _and_ she had been crying worse than he had heard her cry in a long time, if not ever. "I swear, if Grissom did _anything_ to hurt her..." he muttered to himself as he stuck his head through a T-shirt. "I know that Sara will tell me what's going on though. I just have to get to her first."

He walked out into the living room, looking for his keys, when out of the corner of one eye, he saw it. It, being the urn that held all of the ashes of the written and then promptly burned letters he had written to Sara, pouring out his heart and soul into each press of the pen, as a matter of fact. Moving quickly, he took the urn off of his fireplace mantel and put it in a kitchen cabinet. "I hope she won't find it and ask too many questions," he thought out loud. "I don't want to explain all of it..._yet_."

Shouting triumphantly as he found his keys, he ran out to his car and started the ignition. "I'm coming, Sara. Wait for me." He eased the car out onto the road and sped off for McCarran, for Sara, for his friend who _needed_ him.

-_to be continued_-


	3. Always

**Author's Note**: _I took a break from writing this to finish laying out the storyline, and I ended up not only laying out the storyline for this particular story, but two sequels as well. As I have definitive ending points for each chapter and each story, it now just comes down to sitting down and doing the fun part - the writing! Read, if you have something to say, review, it really does make my day to see the reviews in my inbox. I also made a LiveJournal account for my stories, if you want to follow me on there as well. The link is in my profile._

* * *

-**three and a half months ago**-

Gil Grissom was used to a _lot_ of things, having been a crime scene investigator for many years. He had seen people at their very worst, in every state from being eerily poised, to having complete nervous breakdowns, to being, well, _dead_. However, the scene in front of him baffled and confused him.

"Gris...just...leave..." Sara muttered viciously, as she stalked around the room, clutching her stomach and occasionally screaming in pain. Seeing him raise his eyebrows and open his mouth to speak, she repeated herself. "Just...leave...I don't want you to have to deal with this."

"What's wrong?" he said, with a concerned edge to his voice. Her expression changed from one of twisted pain to one of anger, and he realized he had said something wrong. "I mean, nothing's wrong with you, but what's going on? Why are you pushing me away? Talk to me, Sara."

She exhaled, and the small exhalation of air lifted the hair off her face for a fraction of a second. "I'm in pain, and I want to be alone for a bit. Can you give me that much?" She said, and turned away to look out the window, bowled over by another wave of pain.

Walking out the door, he turned to look at Sara, one last time. "Feel better, I'll be back soon, and I love you," he whispered, just loudly enough for her to hear, and he closed the door behind himself.

* * *

Sara fidgeted in the cold chairs of the baggage claim, and aimlessly flipped through a magazine she had found at her gate. "Airports," she thought to herself, "are no place to spend the night." After her flight had landed almost four hours before...some sort of bird carcass on the runway in Los Angeles had delayed her flight by over an hour, she had been waging the internal battle with herself, to call Nick, or not to call Nick.

Would he be on duty, solving crimes? Would he be in bed? She had dialed his number multiple times, and every time until the last, she had chickened out of actually calling him. The last thing she wanted to do was to be a burden, but apparently, he felt she _wasn't_ a burden if he was making an unplanned run out to the airport at five in the morning to pick her up.

* * *

-**the next morning**-

She had fallen asleep shortly after Grissom left. It wasn't even intentional; she had hoped to stay up until he came back, so that they could talk things out and not go to bed with any possible tension between them. After crying through the stomach pain she had been enduring, she had fallen asleep, clutching her pillow. Surprisingly, hers had been an easy sleep, and she woke up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

Getting out of bed, Sara realized his side of the bed was perfectly folded, as though no one had slept in it recently. She also realized, as she walked around, that everything was just as she had left it the night before. "He hasn't come home," she said out loud, to no one in particular, while grabbing her purse. It was time to find her fiancé.

* * *

Nick was, in the eyes of the law, more than likely way, _way_ over the speed limit, though he found himself, strangely, not particularly caring if he got pulled over or not. Thoughts about Sara raced through his head. Not knowing how stable Sara was, based on the tear-filled phone call he had with her, he didn't want to say too much. He didn't want to scare her and make her bolt. He also knew that he had to say the right things, or that it would be too little, which wouldn't be good either.

"I'll...take her out for breakfast. I'm sure after her flight, she'd love to have a nice warm breakfast and some coffee, and maybe we can talk about it over breakfast," he thought to himself. "No, she might not want to have that conversation in public, where anyone could hear her. Maybe I'll take her home and fix her breakfast there. Hopefully I have enough eggs. She likes eggs, right?"

* * *

-**four days later**-

Sara sat in the lobby of the United States Embassy in San Jose, twiddling her thumbs, while waiting for quite some time for her name to be called. After combing the area around where they had been staying, and waiting anxiously for any word from him, she instinctively knew that she had done all she could realistically do without further assistance. She was worried about him, and thought about how she didn't mean for him to be gone _quite_ this long when she asked him to leave. Hopefully he hadn't misinterpreted her.

"Ms. Sidle?" A wiry young man in his late twenties came out to the lobby and shook her hand. "I'm Paul, and I'll be helping you today. Follow me, and we'll get started." Sara nodded and followed him to his office, preparing to tell him everything that would help. Anything would be better than this uncertainty, she thought. It would _have_ to be better.

* * *

Nick pulled into the short-term parking area and eased his car into the nearest spot to the baggage claim that he could find, eager to see her again. Walking as fast as he could without breaking into a jog, he made his way inside. As he looked around, he tried to find her. "Sara!" He said, with a smile, seeing her in one of the chairs.

She looked over at him as she heard his voice and saw him approaching her. Standing up from her chair, she said softly, barely above a whisper, "You came."

"Always."

-_to be continued_-


	4. Journey

**Author's Note**: _This is the last of the flashback chapters, and it's on the slightly longer end, if you compare it to the previous chapters. Everything after this point will be present-day._

_Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me, but to the people who originally created them. Special thanks to my beta, Joe, for looking over this for me and making sure it was the best I could make it. Reviews make my day!_

* * *

As a crowd of grumpy, yet tan, tourists from Hawaii filtered into the baggage claim, Sara and Nick looked at each other for a few minutes, not speaking, allowing for the unspoken tension to dissipate first. Nick could have sworn that her eyes were puffy from crying. He knew better than to make mention of it, not knowing her emotional state. "So...what do you say we get out of here? Want me to take these bags for you?" he asked, already reaching over to pick the larger of the two off the chair.

She shook her head, allowing for her hair to fall over her face. "No. I'll take them, if you don't mind," she quickly stated, taking the handles of both bags and lifting at the same time. Nick couldn't help but let out a low laugh as Sara attempted to balance both bags and walk at the same time. She glared, and tried harder, however, the harder she tried, the more both bags threatened to spill out over the ground.

"Here. Let me take one," he said, easing the handles out from her grasp. As they made their way to the car, neither of them spoke, and instead, they focused on not being run over by crazy airport drivers with no regard for the speed limit, or basic traffic rules in general.

Nick smiled as Sara sat next to him in his car. "So, Sara, how about breakfast?" he asked. "You'd have to be hungry after traveling, I'd assume. My treat."

She nodded gratefully. "By the time we landed, all of the restaurants were closed, so I haven't eaten since my flight. Thanks, Nicky."

"My pleasure."

* * *

-**two days before**-

Paul looked over the desk at Sara Sidle, the woman he had come to know, and become quite annoyed by, if he was being honest with himself, over the past three and a half months. Every day, she either called or came into his office at the embassy, asking for any new leads on the disappearance of one Gilbert Grissom, her fiancé. He felt for her, he did, it couldn't be an easy situation, however, every day was the same answer.

"No, Ms. Sidle, we don't have any new leads," he said, exhaling. "To be honest with you, we haven't had any leads from the start. It's almost as though your Mr. Grissom has, indeed, vanished into thin air."

Sara buried her head in her hands, letting out loud, racking sobs. The past three and a half months had been a drain on her, both emotionally and financially. She had tried to hold it together, appear strong for the embassy officials, and it was just too much for her now.

"Now, we can try something. You said that both of you were from Las Vegas, Nevada, right?" he continued, attempting not to allow her sudden burst of emotion to affect his work. "We've been in contact with some of your former colleagues, a Ms. Catherine Willows and a Mr. Jim Brass, in particular, regarding any potential leads either of them may have. Unfortunately, neither of them could tell me anything we didn't already know."

She looked up for a moment. "You talked to Catherine and Brass?" she asked, an air of incredulity cloaked around her words.

He nodded and took off his glasses, cleaning them with the tail of his shirt. Clearing his breath, he continued. "As I said, they knew nothing more than either of us did. I have a proposal for you, however."

"He followed me down here, and I know that if the situation was reversed, he wouldn't stop searching until he had answers," she said, casting her line of eyesight downward, connecting with a ball of dust perched against one desk leg. "What's your proposal?"

"Go back to Las Vegas. If something turns up down here, I will be sure to make contact with you, but it's very possible he could have gone back to the States without you knowing anything about it," Paul said, sighing. "At any rate, it would allow for us to cover more ground more effectively."

Sara was taken aback by his suggestion, and her shock clearly registered on her face. Going back to Las Vegas would mean facing everyone she had left behind, and answering questions she wasn't particularly sure she wanted to answer, now if not ever. At the same time, she _could_ see the logic behind the suggestion, and was almost surprised she hadn't thought of it herself at some point.

Opening her mouth to speak, she was surprised by the words that came out. "I'll do it."

"Splendid. You'll leave first thing in the morning," he said, firmly shaking her hand. "Goodbye Ms. Sidle, I hope the next time we talk, it's under much more pleasant circumstances."

* * *

-**one day before**-

Sara had _not_ slept well the night before, and neither of her first two flights had been smooth enough to allow her to catch up on her sleep while in the air. She found herself sitting at her final gate, waiting for her flight that would take her to Las Vegas. Thoughts flitted through her mind regarding what she would do once they landed. There was no apartment to go back to, and with her mostly-depleted bank account, she likely wouldn't have the money for more than a night or two in a motel room. No, she'd have to do something else.

"Final boarding call for United Flight 864, departing for Las Vegas," a crackly female voice over the intercom said. Sara rose from her chair, arching her back and taking ahold of her carry-ons. Handing her boarding pass to the smiling flight attendant, she let out a deep sigh. One more flight, just over an hour to go and the journey would be over. She'd be home again, whether she liked the idea or not.

* * *

Over two plates of blueberry pancakes and cups of coffee, Nick talked, while Sara made an attempt to listen. However, the events of the past few months, specifically the last few days, had caught up with her, and she found herself drifting off in thought. "And then Greg opened the door...Sara? Are you listening?"

She absent-mindedly dragged her fork through a puddle of syrup. "I _told_ him to leave," she said, not realizing she had said it out loud. "I told him to leave, and he did, and this is _all my fault_, Nicky. I'm ruining the nice breakfast we were having, just like I ruined everything down in Costa Rica. I should just go." She made a motion to stand up, but before she could, Nick cut her off.

"Sara, I'm going to take you back to my apartment, and you're going to take a shower, and then you are going to sleep. There is no use for you to make any rash decisions when you haven't slept in over a day," he said gently. "Waitress, check, please!"

* * *

-**a few hours before**-

After the bird carcass was cleared from the runway, it had been an extremely uneventful flight to Las Vegas, which Sara was grateful for. She gathered her luggage from the carousel and sat down in a nearby chair, debating on whether to get a motel room for the night or wing it in the baggage claim until daylight. A couple walked by, holding hands and occasionally kissing. "Oh, Gris, I...I wish you...were here..." she thought to herself, finally allowing for the tears she had been holding back to flow freely. Decisions would have to wait for now.

* * *

The car ride to Nick's apartment was brief, though the steady rocking motion of the car had lulled Sara into an uneasy sleep. It wasn't the first time he had seen her sleep, nor would it be the last, considering he had invited her into his apartment indefinitely. He didn't know what had gone on between her and Grissom, except that it sounded fairly serious, but he figured that once she had a few hours of sleep in her that she would be more willing to talk things out with him.

When he pulled into his regular parking space, she was still asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he unbuckled her seatbelt for her and gently picked her up, carrying her out of the car and into his apartment. Laying her down on the couch and draping a lightweight blanket over her, he tucked her in for a morning's worth of sleep. "Sweet dreams, Sara," he whispered, dropping a kiss on her forehead, as he retreated into his bedroom to make a phone call to the lab. Sara, he decided, came first.


	5. Answers

**Author's Note**: _Hopefully this chapter makes up for the delay. Originally, chapter six was supposed to be a part of this, but it ran too long and I divided it. Read and review, reviews make my day brighter. Seriously. Thanks to all of my previous reviewers as well, you're awesome._

_Thanks always to Joe for betaing this for me. Still don't own anything recognizable, it all belongs to the people who created them in the first place._

* * *

Later that day, Sara blinked her eyes open and looked around her, taking in her surroundings. It took her a moment to fully wake up and realize that she was laying on Nick's couch, in Nick's apartment, covered by Nick's blanket, and had slept the most peacefully she had in almost four months. She smiled as she stretched out; allowing for the kinks in her body that had built up while sleeping to ease.

Hearing movement in the other room, Nick came out from his bedroom, to see a newly-awoken Sara sitting on his couch, wrapped in the blanket he had laid over her. "You're awake," he said, coming over to the couch and resting his hand on the cushion next to her. "How did you sleep?"

She nodded and ran her hand through her hair. "It was the best sleep I've had in quite a while. Thanks, Nick, for letting me sleep on your couch. Really," she said, absentmindedly running her hand over the cushion. "Um, do you mind if I use your shower? I've been in these clothes for over a day and a half now; I feel airport grime on me and really want to get it off," she continued, pulling on the hem of her shirt as if to emphasize its distastefulness, somehow.

"Sure. There's a few towels in there, help yourself."

She flashed a tentative smile at him as she walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. "Damn it," he thought to himself as he heard the rhythmic beats of the water droplets hitting the shower floor, "Think of anything but Sara. Decomps, liquid man, maggots..._ew_." He wasn't _quite_ convinced that his mental diversion tactics had worked, but before he could continue thinking disgusting thoughts, he heard a distinct shift in the water. "Does water...sniffle?" he said out loud. Getting up from his position beside the couch, he walked into the kitchen and began preparing a pot of coffee. He wasn't going to push, but her behavior was creating more questions than answers, and he intended to find out what some of the answers were.

* * *

Sara stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy blue towel around her, examining her face in the fogged up mirror. Noting her slightly puffy eyes from her crying jaunt in the shower, she rubbed a hand towel over her face and pulled on a robe of his that was laying on the towel rack, hoping that he wouldn't mind that she was borrowing it. "Stay strong, Sidle," she whispered quietly, as she gathered the inner strength to walk out and face Nick.

* * *

As the door to the bathroom swung open, Nick looked over and saw her quietly standing there, surveying the situation. "Sara, the rug won't bite you," he said gently, coming over to her. "I made us coffee, want to take a seat and we can talk?" The fact that she was wearing _his_ robe didn't escape his notice.

She nodded and gratefully took a seat at his kitchen table, with him claiming the seat next to her. "Mmmm, coffee," she said, gingerly taking a sip. "You remembered just how I like it."

Nick turned away, allowing a small smile before turning back to Sara. "We _did_ make many a coffee run back in our day." They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their coffee and intently studying each other, each one trying to find the words in them to break the silence.

"Hey, um, shouldn't you be getting ready for work soon? Crime doesn't stop just because I'm back in town...or at all, for that matter," Sara blurted out.

"Yeah, about that...I took some time off. I had vacation time built up, and there are more _important_ things to deal with right now," Nick flashed Sara a quick smile. "Such as one of my good friends coming back unexpectedly, for one."

She ducked her head and blushed. She hadn't honestly expected that from him. For him to help her out in a pinch? Sure, that's why she had called him instead of calling Catherine or Greg. But for him to use some of his vacation time on her, it was unexpected, and she wasn't quite sure how to respond, or act for that matter. She was grateful, for sure…but what else?

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," he said, gently touching her chin with his hand, propping it up. The touch of his hand overwhelmed her, and she fought back tears. "Tell me what's going on."

A fresh cascade of tears spilled over Sara's face as she attempted, unsuccessfully, to gain her composure. "Sara? Are you okay?" he asked, concerned for the woman whose crying was beginning to seriously worry him. "You don't have to tell me everything. I'm worried about you though."

She looked up at him, the tracks of her tears still very evident on her face. "After all you've done for me, you _deserve_ to know," she whispered, standing up and moving back over to the couch, leaving the dredges of her cup of coffee back at the table. Nick followed and sat next to her, draping one arm off the edge of the couch.

"Where should I begin?" she asked, playing with a loose thread on a throw pillow.

"The beginning would be a good start."

* * *

As Sara described what had been going on in her life since her latest departure, Nick's expression had stayed roughly the same, a mixture of interest and compassion. He didn't want to interrupt her; he thought it would be rude for him to interject, as she was clearly wrapped up in telling her story, complete with hand motions for emphasis. Though, he thought to himself, when he said that the beginning would be a good start, he didn't mean for the beginning to reach all the way to her departure from Las Vegas after Warrick's funeral.

"We got back in around eight in the evening after having dinner, and I wasn't feeling too well, a little crabby. I was screaming and it just wasn't pleasant. He was concerned. I yelled at him. I told him to leave, to let me be alone. He left," she said, her voice dropping from a more confident, assured tone to one of slight regret. "I woke up the next morning and he was _gone_, Nick. Gone. I _told_ him to leave. And he never came back. He _promised_ me he'd come back, and he _didn't_."

There _had_ to be some explanation for it. There just had to be. After working with the man for so many years, Nick _thought_ he knew him well. Well enough, at least, that he knew that Grissom wouldn't just leave someone he cared enough for to go find in a foreign country. Not without a pile of good explanations, but even then? He highly doubted that Grissom would leave without warning.

Sara was half in tears again, and Nick resisted the urge to reach across the couch and comfort her. "Do...do you want me to continue?" she stammered.

"If you feel up to it," he said. "If you don't, I'll understand." She exhaled and continued.

"I was confused, and scared, and absolutely _lost_...I kept thinking that if I hadn't pushed him away into the night, he'd still be there. The embassy official assigned to my case...Paul...he was the one who suggested I come back. The case is cold, Nick, there's absolutely _no_ leads. It's almost like...he disappeared off the face of the Earth, and I blame myself for messing up the one good thing I had."

The last sentence hung in the room, as Sara sat silently staring into space with a stoic expression on her face, and Nick was left speechless. Only the occasional faint exhale or sigh could be heard. Finally, Nick spoke up. "I'm glad you felt you could come to me, though," he said softly, adjusting his hand from its position on the couch cushion and instead laying it across his knee. Even though a part of him _wanted_ to be as open and honest with her as she had been with him, he knew that it wasn't the time. A better time would come later, for now, he needed to focus on cheering her up, maybe attempting to try to get her mind off things. "How about, tomorrow, you and I have a day out together?" he asked, looking at her face to gauge her reaction.

She nervously laughed. "Nick, are you asking me out?"

"No, just asking my good friend from out of town if she'd like to accompany me on a picnic tomorrow afternoon."

For the first time all day, Sara genuinely grinned. "Sure. It could be fun."

-_to be continued_-


	6. Picnic

**Author's Note**: _Many apologies for the long delay on this chapter. Hopefully the remaining chapters won't take as long to get out._

_Thanks to my beta, Joe, for looking over this as usual and also for reminding me that it doesn't rain in Las Vegas very much at all. You're the best!_

* * *

The first strands of sunlight streamed in through Nick's bedroom window the next morning, illuminating his bed within the beams. He turned over, grasping fistfuls of his sheets and murmuring indecipherable words in his sleep, before hearing faint footfalls outside of his bedroom door. "'Lo?" he asked out loud, sleep still covering his voice. "Sar? That you out there?"

A brunette head poked in through the doorway with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," she said. "Just looking for my luggage, you can go back to sleep."

He threw the sheets off of himself and walked out into the living room, deeply wishing now that his air conditioner wasn't broken. Looking around, he spotted her luggage propped up against an end table. Picking up the lighter of the two bags, he gestured to it with a grin. With a grateful smile, she walked over and took it from him. "Thanks," she said, waltzing into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

To occupy his time, and to prevent himself from thinking too hard while Sara was using his shower and getting ready for the day, Nick turned on the television, and mindlessly flipped channels. His attention was piqued by the daily weather report, and he stopped on the channel long enough to catch it.

"Abnormally strong winds in the desert have created sandstorm-like conditions, adversely affecting our air quality. Residents are advised to stay indoors if at all possible today," the female weather anchor intoned. Nick pressed the power button on the remote control, and flopped on the couch, trying to think of what he could do with Sara that didn't involve going outside. His plans for the day were ruined otherwise. If he couldn't come up with something, then they'd be stuck staring at each other the whole day, which wasn't the _worst_ idea in the history of ideas, but would be considerably awkward considering she was still technically one of his friends' girlfriends, he thought with a slight grimace. Besides, even if she wasn't with Grissom, would she even have any interest in him?

"Stop it, Stokes," he mentally admonished himself. "Take it one day at a time." He heard the bathroom door open, and twisting his torso, he caught a glimpse of Sara, dressed in her own clothes, hair wrapped in a towel. She caught his eye and smiled, and came over to sit on the couch next to him, gently setting aside the throw pillow that had been sitting in her spot.

"So, Nick, what are our plans for the day? You said something about a picnic last night," she said, placing one hand on her knee. The thought of getting out away from everything, even for a day out with Nick, sounded quite relaxing after everything she had been through the past few months, and she was anxious to see what he had in store.

He let out a small sigh. "Weather report says no outdoor picnic today, sadly, air quality is _horrible_," he said, forcing himself to look at Sara. Her expression of disappointment told Nick everything. "But," he continued, "That doesn't mean we can't still do something, just we can't do what I was originally planning. I'll make it up to you this weekend, promise."

"What do you mean?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "There's not much to do if we stay in your apartment for the entire day, unless you're thinking of a marathon Scrabble session or something."

"I was thinking Monopoly myself," Nick said, as he ducked a barrage of throw pillows.

* * *

A few hours later, Nick and Sara were sitting next to each other on his living room floor, with a red checkered picnic blanket spread beneath them. "I like this idea _much_ better than Monopoly," Sara said between bites of her sandwich.

"Who said we weren't going to play Monopoly when we were done?" he replied with a wink and a slight nudge.

"You wouldn't _dare_," she said, glaring at him playfully.

Silence filled the air, solely punctuated by the muted sounds of chewing and swallowing. Nick cleared his throat and looked over at Sara, who was intensely studying her portion of potato salad and occasionally jabbing her fork at it. "Let's do something we'd both enjoy," he said, attracting her attention away from her fork.

She let out a laugh. "And what would you think we'd both enjoy?"

"Oh, I don't know, I was thinking a movie?"

"You mean, we'd go out to Blockbuster and rent something?"

Nick shook his head and held up the remote control triumphantly. "On-demand. I just upgraded for it a few months ago."

She grinned and reached her hand out for the remote. "Let me choose."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were back to sitting on the couch again, watching as the opening credits of the movie Sara had spent the last fifteen minutes painstakingly picking out scrolled across the screen. "Popcorn?" Nick asked, stretching his arms above his head and smiling at Sara. She nodded, put one finger over her lips and turned back to the screen, staring intently.

He got up from his sitting position, and slipped into the kitchen where he looked in the pantry for the microwave popcorn. At first only finding empty boxes, he finally found a box with one bag left. Smiling to himself, he slipped it into the microwave and began microwaving it for the time indicated on the packaging. Looking out to where Sara was, he pinched the creases of his forehead between two fingers and began massaging it gently. Not that he had a headache, but that he was trying to dispel the thoughts of the general connotation of two people watching a movie in the privacy of one of their homes. No. That's not what he needed to be thinking about. Reaching into the cupboard for the popcorn bowl, he eyed the urn, sitting there, mocking him. He could have sworn it was saying to him, "You're an idiot, Stokes, a complete idiot. She's sitting there, on your couch, and all you have to do is _talk_ to her."

Yeah, _well _then, he was an idiot who valued his various appendages. No telling how she would react, especially considering her confessions of the last twenty-four hours regarding the whole situation she was in. Slamming the cupboard door a little too hard, to get away from the prying…_imaginary_ eyes of the urn, he attracted Sara's attention with the sudden loud noise. "Door slipped," he said with a sheepish grin. She nodded and turned back to the movie, thoroughly entranced by something on screen.

Popcorn bowl in hand, he walked back over to the couch and sat down, placing the bowl between them. "Did I miss much?" he whispered.

She shook her head, picking up a small handful of popcorn and eating one kernel at a time. "Nothing _too_ important."

-_to be continued_-


	7. Uncertainty

**Author's Note**: This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it ran _way_ too long, and so I divided it in two. Next chapter _will_ be the end though. Thanks to all of my dedicated readers/reviewers, and here we go with chapter seven!

* * *

-**one week later**-

"Well, _that_ was fun," Sara said, throwing her purse on the side table as her and Nick walked back into his apartment, after a night out on the town.

Nick laughed. "I wish I would have had a camera. Your face was _priceless_."

"If you would have shown any of those pictures to anyone, you would have been a dead man. And I _am_ a former CSI; I _would_ know how to hide the evidence," she said, with a wink and a nudge.

"I'm sure our friends would solve my _brutal_ and _unprovoked _murder. They _are_ the best when it comes to following the evidence."

"Even if it was _me_ committing the crime?"

"Sara, you couldn't hurt _me_," he replied with a laugh, which earned him another smile from her. "I'm beat from going out; I'm going to go to bed."

"Sounds like a good idea. Good night, Nick."

"Good night, Sara."

As his apartment descended into darkness, and each of the inhabitants fell asleep, dreaming of whatever it is CSIs dream of, a quiet calm settled. The only thing breaking the darkness was the tiny pinprick of light emitting from Sara's cell phone, a constant and steady blinking indicating that she had missed a phone call…

* * *

Early the next morning, Nick awoke, stretching his arms above his head and taking in the rays of sunlight coming in from his window. He had a good feeling about the day. He and Sara had plans to go out to a late lunch with Greg and Catherine, and then the day was full of potential after that. He was expected to check back into the lab within the next few days, to work out how much more vacation time he'd be able to take. Knowing Sara as he did, she would _completely_ understand when he had to go back to work. It was up to him – and Catherine, he supposed. If they needed him back, he'd be more than glad to go back, as long as Sara would be able to fend for herself. Which, he knew, she'd be able to, quite capably at that.

Walking out of his bedroom, he heard Sara's voice cracking, as she raised her voice to an unseen person. "Sara?" he asked tentatively. "You okay?"

She gestured to the cell phone currently in her grasp. "_Phone_," she hissed. "Yes, I'm _still_ here," she returned to her phone call. "_Today_?"

The person on the other end said something that evidently upset Sara, as she snapped her phone shut and catapulted it across the room, where it crashed against the wall and landed on the floor unharmed. She buried her face in a throw pillow, and began to cry. Nick gingerly sat down next to her and began rubbing her back in a soothing manner. "What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks puffy from her frantic crying burst. "They know something about Grissom, and they _won't_ tell me on the phone, only in _person_. I have to go back, Nick."

"Back to Costa Rica?"

"_Yes_."

"When?"

"The _sooner _the better, which I take to mean, catch the next flight out."

"I'll drive you to the airport."

"I was…kind of hoping you'd come with me this time, Nick. I could _really_ use a good friend."

"Greg would be _more_ than willing. I could call him up and he'd already have his bags packed and everything by the time we hung up."

She let out a small laugh. "No, Nick, I'd _really_ prefer if it was you."

"Okay," he said, squeezing her hand. "Give me a little bit to pack and call to cancel our lunch plans. Greg will be _devastated_; he was _so_ excited to see you again."

"I'm _sure_ he was."

* * *

Nick punched in Catherine's number, and prayed that he wouldn't be waking her up. "Cath?" he asked, when he heard someone answer the phone.

"No, it's Lindsey. Who is this?"

"It's Nick. Listen; can you give your mother a message for me?"

"Sure."

"Sara and I can't make lunch, something came up. We'll make it up to her and Greg later, but can you just tell her that for me?"

"I guess. Bye Nick."

"Bye Lindsey," he said, clicking his phone shut and sitting on his bed. It was time to pack. Not knowing how long they would be there, he figured that he would need at least a few changes of clothes. Aimlessly throwing shirts and jeans into a duffel bag, he sighed. If they wouldn't tell her on the phone, it had to be something big, and he sensed that it probably wouldn't be the news he knew she so desperately wanted to hear. At least she wouldn't be facing the news by herself. No more of this flying solo thing for her.

He zipped up his duffel bag and hefted it up. Walking back out into the living room, he saw that Sara was perched on top of his couch, head cradled in her hands. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked quietly.

"Nervous about what's waiting for us on the other end of that flight," she said, in a faint whisper. "Either Grissom's alive, and all of my worrying the past few months is for naught, though we'd have to do a _lot_ of talking about what's happened, or he's…_not_, and the past few years of my life come _crashing_ down around me."

He nodded, and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "I'll be there, Sara."

"I know. Thank you, you _don't_ know how much it means to me," she replied, reciprocating the hug. "We should probably get going. You called Cath, right?"

"I left a message with Lindsey."

"Hopefully she remembers to pass it along."

* * *

"We can get you there around…8:40 pm local time," the ticket agent at the airport said, tapping her fingers across the keyboard. "You'd have to connect through Dallas though, is that okay with you?"

Sara looked up at Nick. "What do you say, Nick?"

"We'll take it," he said, handing over his credit card and glancing over at Sara. The look of pure dread in her eyes was unmistakable. She was scared to take the flight. The uncertainty was killing _him_ inside, so he could only _imagine_ what was going through her mind...

-_to be continued_-


	8. Transfixed

"Sara?"

She heard a familiar voice, a comforting voice, from somewhere distant and above her, as though it was merely in a dream. Opening her eyes, she blinked cautiously, and looked around where she was – a very crowded airplane, filled with anxious travelers. Nick was sitting in the seat next to her, their arms sharing the armrest, his hand clasped over hers. "How long have I been out?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Long enough that you missed the landing announcement."

"Oh, so we're nearly in Nick Stokes country?"

"If you'd look out the window, Sleeping Beauty, you'd realize we _are_ in Nick Stokes country," he said with a laugh. "We landed five minutes ago, just waiting for a gate now."

Swatting him gently, she eased open the window-shade, letting the bright Texas afternoon sun shine in. She peered out, taking in the never-ending expanse of concrete and blue sky. It seemed as though, anymore, she had been living a whirlwind life, ever since leaving Las Vegas nearly two years before. The constant beck and call, summoning her to a new adventure, flying her to a new corner of the world. It _had _felt nice; the sheer unpredictability of it all…but there _was_ something to be said for stability…stability which could _not_ be found until this was resolved, though, for the sake of her heart.

* * *

"Everything really _is_ bigger in Texas, isn't it?" Sara said, letting out a soft pant as they made their way to their connecting flight. It was like walking through the _never-ending _airport.

Nick arched an eyebrow. "Do you _really_ want me to answer that?"

"Forget I even asked."

A faint trilling noise came from Nick's jeans pocket. "Shit," he said under his breath, grabbing the phone and flipping it open. "Stokes."

"Where _are_ you?" a very irate Catherine asked, raising her voice into the phone. "Greg and I have been waiting for almost an _hour_."

"Uh…I left a message with Lindsey this morning. Something came up, Sara and I had to cancel."

"_Please_ tell me that you two didn't go out drinking last night, end up at a tacky 24-hour wedding chapel, and are now on your way to your honeymoon in Maui."

"If you take out the excessive drinking, tacky wedding chapel, and honeymoon in Maui parts…that's _about_ right."

"Nick, where _are_ you? Are you and Sara in some kind of trouble?"

He glanced over at Sara, who had found herself entranced by an abstract lighted sculpture nearby. "We're in Dallas."

"_Dallas_? As in _Texas_?"

"…Yeah. Cath, we need to get going or we're going to miss our flight. I'll call you later."

"Nick!" she shouted into the phone, but as he had ended the call already, all that answered her was dead air. Glaring at her phone, she slammed it down on the table and turned to Greg. "_Those two_."

* * *

Sara walked off the airplane a few hours later, with Nick following close behind her. Looking around, she sucked in a deep breath. It wasn't a place she had ever expected to see again, and she could feel it begin to suffocate her, the dread that she had managed to put behind her until the reality was staring her in the face. "You okay?" Nick asked, putting one hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah," she paused, searching for the right word. "I will be. I think."

* * *

A short time later, Sara hung up the phone in their hotel room, sighing. "He's left for the night. I guess it has to wait until morning." She sat cross-legged on her bed, playing mindlessly with a lock of hair that had fallen out of place. "We rush down here, and then we can't even get answers for another twelve hours."

Nick sat down on the other bed and faced her. "Want to go out and do something, to take your mind off of what's going on?"

"No," she shook her head and exhaled. "After all of our traveling, I really just want to _sleep_." Pulling back the covers, she burrowed deeply inside and laid her head on the pillow. "Good night, Nick."

"Good night, Sara," he said, turning out the lamp light, while noticing that she hadn't even changed out of her clothes from that day.

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, Sara found herself throwing the covers off and walking to the window. She pulled back the drape and looked out over the peaceful calm of a city at sleep. "Sara," she heard a soft masculine voice from behind her say.

She turned around, half-expecting Nick to be looking back at her. Instead, she saw Grissom standing there, looking as he did the same night he disappeared. "Gil," she said, feeling the breath leaving her as she fought back tears. She grasped the drape to steady herself. "What are you doing here?"

As he approached, she felt an eerie sense of calm wash over her. "Don't be frightened, be firm," he whispered. To her perplexed expression, he continued. "Keats."

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, he pressed his lips to hers, before walking away. The scene shifted out of focus and she turned over in bed, burying her face in the pillow, the ghost of a smile spread across her face.

* * *

The sound of her cell phone ringing in the morning woke Sara up. "Hello?" she asked, sleep thickly coating her voice.

"It's Paul, from the embassy. I take it you traveled safely down?"

"Yes. I brought a friend, I hope that's not a problem," she said, shifting her gaze over to Nick's slumbering form.

"Not a problem at all. Can you be at my office at nine?"

Sara blinked, bringing the clock next to her bed into focus. 7:38. "Yes," she said. "We'll be there."

"See you shortly, Ms. Sidle."

"'Bye," she said, clicking her phone shut, and taking a deep breath. It would take_ everything_ she had in her to make it through the day.

* * *

She folded her hands demurely in her lap and stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with Nick. Paul had excused himself a few moments prior, as the receptionist from the front area had buzzed for him and told him that the other party was here. She didn't know what to expect when the door opened.

The doorknob turned, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. Turning around, she saw Paul out of the corner of her eye, along with a man and another woman.

"Ms. Sidle, this is Detective Espinoza with the local police department, and Adriana, who will be translating for you." They shook hands with Sara, and proceeded to sit down.

Sara focused on Adriana's large earrings as Detective Espinoza began speaking in rapid-fire Spanish. They moved around frequently as she translated what the detective was saying, complete with animated hand motions.

"_Est__á__ muerto_," the detective said, after a brief pause to allow Adriana to catch up.

It needed no translation, as she felt the room begin to sway back and forth. She gripped the chair, throwing her head back, gasping frantically for air. "This can't be happening, _this can't be happening_," she thought. After loving him for so many years, she'd have to learn what life would be like without him, and the thought of that _terrified_ her.

-_fini_-

* * *

**Author's Note**: _So, this is the end of this road, the end of my first multi-chapter fic ever, but with the promise of a sequel in the not-too-distant future, picking up right where this left off._

_Thanks to all of the reviewers who have reviewed past chapters, as well as the people who put it on alert, and anyone who didn't do either of the above but read it, you all made this **such** a pleasure to write. As well, thanks to my amazing beta without whom this story – or any of my CSI stories, period – would be possible._


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